


7.06 "Souls Only Understand Souls"

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Series: Warp 5 Complex Virtual Season 7 [2]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Virtual Season/Series, Warp 5 Complex Virtual Season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-28
Updated: 2007-12-28
Packaged: 2018-08-16 05:57:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8090116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Enterprise's contact with an alien species leads to a misunderstanding that could turn catastrophic.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Beta: Kathy Rose  
  
Spoilers: 1.12 "Silent Enemy"  
  
Note: The title is from Walt Whitman, "Leaves of Grass": "ONLY themselves understand themselves, and the like of themselves, / As Souls only understand Souls."  


* * *

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed barely managed to grasp the edge of his console with one hand, just keeping himself in his seat. His heart raced as _Enterprise_ took another hit, and he kept that hand clenched to his station. The other sped across the controls as he desperately tried to guide their weaponry, reacting to each incoming shot while also compensating for the gyrations _Enterprise_ 's helmsman, Ensign Travis Mayweather, was putting the ship through to avoid being hit.

They'd only just entered this area of space when a ship, coming out of nowhere, had appeared off their bow. One moment they had been approaching an uninhabited star system, and the next, _Enterprise_ had found itself under attack. Reed had recognized the ship immediately, even without Commander T'Pol's identification via the database--its appearance, so reminiscent of the old stealth bombers back on Earth, had stuck with him from the other times they'd met.

This version wasn't so different from the one that had attacked them, shortly after _Enterprise_ had been launched, or from the one they'd encountered mere months ago when they'd been on patrol with _Columbia_. Same basic shape. Same sudden appearance. Same aggressive stance. Only this time, the aliens had found a way to defend themselves against _Enterprise_ 's weapons.

It was remarkable. The ship had basically looked the same--it even had the same green lights on its sides--but the first time they'd met, an ill-prepared _Enterprise_ had struggled at first to defend itself, eventually running them off, but not before a hasty installation of their phase cannons. This time, _Enterprise_ had been upgraded with some of the best weaponry Starfleet had to offer, fully installed, and it had so far been entirely ineffective. There was obviously some new sort of barrier technology being used by the aliens, but without being able to actually get any readings from their attackers, Reed found himself hard pressed to say whether that was due to a new sort of hull plating on the alien ship or something else entirely.

 _Enterprise_ 's bridge had gone red when the aliens had first struck, and the warning lights cast a hellish glow. Something sparked near Reed, sending embers onto his clenched hand, and the sharp pain almost caused him to let go of his console. He hissed a breath and held on through sheer willpower more than anything else. He kept his focus on his console despite the smoke harsh in his throat, the smell of burning plastic, and the frantic activity around him. He focused entirely on what he was doing, because he had to.

"Travis, hard to starboard," Captain Jonathan Archer shouted from his seat in the command well. "Keep up with evasive maneuvers. Trip, how's the warp drive?"

As the voice of Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker, their chief engineer, came over the com, Reed felt the ship buck. Weapons fire had again made contact with their hull, and he returned fire even though their weaponry so far had been useless against this enemy. He was hoping that if they kept firing, kept trying new things, eventually something would slip past the other ship's defenses. Sparks hit his hand again, and he released his grip on the console for a moment, exhaling his pain as he shook feeling back into numb fingers. As he grabbed hold again, the fingers of his other hand flew over the controls, and he listened via his earpiece to the activity in his armory. During their past encounters, when the aliens had fired, they'd been able to pick up something in their scans; but that wasn't the case now. Maybe if they tried this, or perhaps, wait, no, damn it, this wasn't working, why--

"Malcolm, anything?"

Reed's head snapped up, his gaze meeting Archer's. The man sat in the captain's chair at the center of the bridge, the sleeve of his uniform torn, a smear of soot or grease on his chin. He pierced Reed with a gaze that probably revealed more than the man intended of his fear, his anxiety, and, under all that, the trust and hope that were so much a part of who Archer was.

"Not yet," Reed exhaled. He rolled his shoulders slightly, trying to release the tension there.

"Keep trying," Archer said simply.

"Sir," Reed replied with a nod, turning back to his work. He knew Archer had done that intentionally, catching his attention purposefully, at just the right minute. At one time in his career, he'd probably have thought Archer was berating him for his lack of success against this enemy. Now, he knew better. He...they...were doing the best that they could. And like Archer, he had faith in his team and in the people around him. They would succeed, because any other alternative was not an option.

Archer pushed himself up to stand, and the sudden movement caught Reed's eye. He watched the captain as he moved, footing unsteady, to Sato's station, where she was working intently at the com. Sato's mouth was moving, her hands frantically punching away at buttons on her station, as she tried desperately to communicate with the aliens attacking them.

"Hoshi, anything?" Archer practically shouted to be heard over the din of suddenly renewed pounding. Otherwise, he seemed oblivious to the smoke and destruction around him. No, not oblivious, Reed thought. Simply focused on the task at hand.

"No, sir," Sato shot back, eyes only for her instruments.

"And they're definitely receiving our transmissions?"

"Yes," she answered and, anticipating Archer's next question, she added, "Although I don't know if they are understanding us."

"They understood us well enough the first time we met," Archer said bluntly.

"Perhaps," Sato said. She met Archer's eye for a moment. "At that time, they were able to say something to us--using our own words, recorded and pieced together. That doesn't mean that we're being understood. Not fully."

Archer nodded, and in a voice almost too quiet to be heard over the tumult, he said, "Keep at it."

Sato gave him a relieved smile and returned to her work.

Reed remembered the strange message these aliens had sent to them, years ago. They'd cobbled together words that Archer had used in a transmission to them and fed them back to _Enterprise_ , reshaped and with new meaning. It had been odd, hearing the aliens' demands coming through Archer's voice and appearance--the face and the voice the same, and yet so very wrong. But at least then, the aliens had made an attempt. Their last encounter with them had included no communication; after the aliens had destroyed a Romulan ship, it had left, but not before taking a shot at _Enterprise_.

Reed saw Sato's eyes widen. "Sir, I'm--" was all she was able to get out before there was a high-pitched screech.

Reed reflexively put his hands over his ears. As agony pierced his head, he heard Sato shout and a moan from Mayweather, but he was in too much pain to be of any help.

T'Pol, voice sharp, said, "We're being scanned."

The shrieking stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and Reed murmured a soft, "No kidding," before he could bite it back. Luckily, he'd spoken too quietly for the others to hear. He glanced up to see T'Pol give him a look. Well, for most of the others to hear.

The bridge rocked around them. Smoke started coming from the wall nearest Reed, the red warning lights turning it into a roiling mass.

"Warp drive is offline," T'Pol said, looking down at her console. The lights dimmed, and the emergency lights came on. "Main power is offline," she added.

"Tactical systems?" Archer asked. He was standing in the middle of the bridge, staring at the main viewscreen, which had gone dark.

Reed, not without surprise, replied, "Online, Captain."

"The aliens are gone," T'Pol said, her voice calm despite the implications of that statement.

And with that, the main screen flickered back to life, showing space that was, at least for the moment, blessedly clear.

* * *

Tucker, looking somewhat the worse for wear, leaned both fists on the glass top of the situation table at the back of the bridge. He exchanged a tired look with Reed. Reed knew that he himself probably looked no better; between the stress of the attack and the pain in his burned hand, he'd had better days.

This had been meant to be a relatively peaceful mission. Starfleet had asked them to investigate this area of space: there had been several reports of odd things happening in this region, although nothing that seemed all that harmful; actually, as from what he'd read, the details of the events seemed less like official reports and a bit more like ghost stories. He suspected they'd really been sent out here to help deepen the relationships between Earth and several of the races that used this area as part of their transit routes rather than out of any urgent concern. He'd actually found himself looking forward to the mission as break from all they'd been through lately. In fact, he'd half expected to come out here, find nothing at all, and be done with it. Apparently, so had Starfleet, for _Columbia_ , which had recently been operating in tandem with its sister ship, _Enterprise_ , had been reassigned to some rather tedious escort duties. He doubted any of them had expected _Enterprise_ to arrive here, only to be ambushed by aliens they'd been attacked by six years prior, and then not seen again until a couple of months ago.

Sato stood beside him, her back held straight despite her obvious exhaustion. Reed caught her eye, and she gave him a weary smile. Mayweather, looking bedraggled in his mussed uniform, stood beside an equally tattered-appearing Archer. Of the group, T'Pol was the only one who seemed at all at ease, but Reed knew better than to believe appearances. It was her Vulcan control that allowed her to appear so put together. The soot on her face and the tiredness in her eyes told another story.

Yet again, distracted by his own tiredness, Reed found himself wishing they'd installed chairs around this table during their last retrofit.

"Injuries?" Archer asked, breaking him from his thoughts.

"No major injuries," T'Pol said. Reed knew she'd checked with Doctor Phlox just before the meeting. She went on, "Crewman Ramjattan sustained a serious burn to his arm, and Ensign Shea has a broken ankle. Otherwise, injuries are limited to minor burns, contusions, and sprains."

Reed felt himself relax. Somehow, most on the ship had escaped serious injury. Like _Enterprise_ , the crew had come through bruised, battered, and filthy, but mostly whole. Reed cast a glance over Tucker's shoulder to the bridge beyond. The space looked war torn: panels which had half come down, hanging for dear life, wires spewing forth. Tucker's staff had already begun working to repair the damage. They'd got the lights up, at least, and the air circulation back on. Most of the smoke was now gone, leaving only the faintest tinge of burned insulation.

Archer, back stiff, began pacing along his edge of the table. "So, what the..." With obvious effort, he bit the rest of that back. He turned to face Reed directly. "What just happened? Were those the same aliens who'd..." He let the rest trail off.

Reed stood to attention. "Sir, they were the same aliens. Their ship configuration was almost an exact match for the group that attacked us in 2151, and then again recently." Reed had taken a moment before the meeting to confirm his thought on this. "And like those times, they attacked us without warning."

"Any idea why?" Archer asked pointedly.

"No, sir," Reed replied. "However, it seems they were trying to disable, rather than destroy, us."

Tucker, pushing his fists onto the clear table surface before him, leaned across the table toward Reed. "Disable us?" he asked, his attitude apparent in his tone. "They damn near came close to blowing us to bits."

Reed crossed his arms. "As I said," he answered calmly. At this point, he knew Tucker well enough to know the difference between when the man was deliberately trying to provoke and when he was simply working off steam. "They certainly had the ability to destroy us. They appeared to be using weaponry that was both more powerful than what we have and more precisely targeted." He moved his gaze, letting it light on everyone at the table. "Once they completed their scan, they focused those weapons exactly where they intended them to strike, and in the end, they took out only what they'd intended: our engines."

"They left us weapons' capability," T'Pol said from beside him, her calm exterior only slightly diminished by the streaks of soot running across her cheek and down her neck, and the fact that the front of her hair had clearly been singed. "With the accuracy of their targeting, they could easily have disabled our weapons, should they have chosen to do so."

"So they left us floating here in space," Tucker said.

"Yet with the ability to defend ourselves," T'Pol countered.

"Nice of them," Tucker muttered, but all the fire had gone from him.

Archer cast him a glance, then turned to Sato. "We received no transmissions." It wasn't a question.

"No, sir," Sato said firmly, but Reed could see the uncertainty in her eyes. "I've gone back over our records. There's nothing."

"So that's different from our first encounter," Archer said. "At least then, they told us to surrender."

"Our first encounter, we barely managed to fight them off," Reed added before he could stop himself. He hadn't meant to come off quite so sarcastic, but there it was.

Archer raised a brow, a la T'Pol.

Reed went on. "The difference this time was in their ability to defend themselves against our upgraded weaponry, and in the precision of their weapons."

"Seems they've been doing some work since the last time they stopped by," Tucker said. "Quick work."

"Indeed," answered Reed. "I believe that they are using a new sort of shielding." He wasn't certain, but he suspected, from his observations, that the shielding had both mechanical and electrical components--perhaps a combination of some sort of physical plating with an electrically based shield.

"It was highly effective," T'Pol said dryly, and Reed nodded in response.

"Were you able to get any readings from them, Malcolm?" Archer asked.

"No, sir." He shifted his arms, trying to find a comfortable position for his burned hand. The medics had bandaged it hastily, but he'd need to go to sickbay for treatment. "At least in our last meeting, we were able to get brief readings when they fired." He shook his head. "That wasn't the case this time."

"Any chance that their being here and their attack on us had anything to do with our own reasons for being out here?" Archer asked.

T'Pol nodded. "That is quite possible, Captain. There are no ships in the region and no populated planets nearby. I see no reason why they would be here, if there were no connection."

"Even we wouldn't be here if we hadn't gotten those reports." Tucker pushed fingers through hair already in disarray, leaving it standing on end. "I mean, other than the strange activity that those cargo ships reported to Starfleet, there's really nothing going on here that's of interest."

Mayweather leaned forward, and for the first time, Reed noticed a bruise blossoming under the dark skin of his cheek. "Even Boomers didn't come here until recently, and no one seems to come here much. This place is mainly a pass through, a highway. Boomers and other cargo haulers use it to get from point A to point B along one of the newer trade routes. There's no reason to stop here that I know of." He shrugged. "Not much of interest."

"Other than the reports," Tucker said.

"Other than the reports," Mayweather echoed. "These aliens haven't attacked anybody else--they haven't even been seen by any other ships in this region. And it's not like there's anything here to defend."

"I know I read the reports, but..." Archer rubbed a weary hand across his eyes. "What sorts of things have the cargo ships reported?"

"Strange things," Sato said. She'd been charged with going through the reports in detail. "Nothing major. People seeing things they can't explain, that sort of stuff."

"We've had no reports of anything out of the ordinary happening on board, Captain," T'Pol said.

"Yet," said Sato.

T'Pol acknowledged Sato's comment with a nod.

"Keep a close eye on things," Archer said, looking at Reed. "If anyone notices anything, no matter how minor, make sure they know to report it."

"Sir," Reed said, acknowledging the order. He'd put it out shipwide as soon as the meeting ended.

Archer turned to Mayweather. "What's the status of the helm?"

"It's good, Captain," Mayweather said. "Only minor damage to helm control. We should have it good to go in less than an hour."

Archer smiled for the first time since before the battle. "Nice to have some good news."

"Sir," said T'Pol, again looking down at the information being displayed on the table before her. "All departments have reported in." She lifted her eyes. "Other than engines, there is only minor damage to the ship."

Tucker had moved as she'd spoken. He checked the data over her shoulder. "It looks a lot worse than it actually is, Captain," he noted.

"We estimate that repairs on most systems could be completed within a few hours," T'Pol said.

"Other than the engines," Tucker pointed out.

"Other than the engines," T'Pol acknowledged with a slight nod.

Archer asked, "Trip, how long before the engines are back online?"

"I don't know, Captain." Tucker ran a filthy hand across the back of his neck. "Impulse? Maybe tomorrow, at the latest. But the warp engine?" He winced slightly. "Two, three days, maybe."

Fabulous, Reed thought with resignation. Which left them with two immediate needs: a plan to defend themselves if the aliens, or anyone else, came here and found them floating in space; and the need to repair their engines and get on with their mission, without knowing what, if anything, they'd done to provoke the attack.

* * *

Reed stopped just inside the door of the dimmed mess hall. He'd been hoping to find a bit of peace, a hot cup of tea, and maybe a bit of something to eat after a long day, and it was so late that he'd not been expecting to find anyone else there. He should have known better. Sato sat at a table facing the window, a cup of steaming tea held between her hands, staring out at the stars.

Afraid of disturbing her, he was just about to turn around and leave. But she must have heard him or seen his reflection in the window, for she said, "It's really beautiful, isn't it?"

Taking that as an invitation, Reed stepped forward. "It is." He moved to the drinks dispenser and got a cup of black tea. Careful not to spill it, he settled in a chair beside her.

They sat in silence for a while, staring out at the stars. It was rare that he was able to see them. Far too often, they'd found themselves streaking through space, the stars, if he noticed them at all, an indistinct blur. It was rare that he wasn't rushing about on the ship as well. It had been a long time since he'd taken a moment to simply sit and look, and he was glad to be able to find this moment of peace.

Sato spoke from beside him, her voice low. "How's your hand?"

"Better," Reed replied, flexing fingers that were still stiff. The bandage was gone. Phlox had repaired most of the damage, and he was feeling the benefits of the painkiller Phlox had administered.

"Remember the first time we bumped into those aliens?" Sato asked with a trace of mischief.

"I'm not sure I could forget," he said, his voice echoing her tone.

Then Sato whispered one word: "Pineapple."

Reed smiled at the memory. He remembered her asking him, years ago, about his favorite foods. At the time, he hadn't known that it was for his birthday, and he had ended up mistaking her interest for an interest in him. It had all been rather Shakespearean, actually. Or was that Dickensian?

"Different this time," she said.

"Yes, we are," Reed replied, still lost in those memories.

"I meant the aliens," she said, with more than a hint of humor.

"Oh," he answered. He could feel himself blushing, and he looked sideways at her.

She gave him an easy smile. "Were you able to get any readings?"

"No," he said, grateful that she had let his gaffe go. "Last time, we were able to get some brief readings when they'd fired on us. They must have changed their shielding since." He raised his mug to his lips.

"What are we supposed to call these people, anyway?"

"Pardon?" Reed said around his tea.

"What designation did Starfleet end up giving that species?"

Reed thought for a moment. "Erm...Species 75896, I believe."

"You would remember that," Sato said. She gave him a tiny smile. "It doesn't really suit them, though, does it? I mean, I know Trip and Travis had started calling them 'little green men,' but that's not quite it, either."

Reed shook his head, not really sure where she was going with this. He'd always wondered what those aliens had called themselves. They'd been a bit strange looking, from what little of them they'd captured in their recordings. Tall, thin, bipedal, eye stalks; humanoid, perhaps, but far from human. And Sato was right: they were neither little, nor green. Nor, in all likelihood, men.

"I've always thought of them as the pineapple aliens," she said.

But they'd certainly not looked like pineapples.

He must have given Sato a strange look, because she flushed and went on. "You know, for...obvious reasons." She covered her blush by sipping at her tea. She looked out at the stars again. "Do you think they learned from us last time, and changed their weapons and tactics in response?"

Reed turned the cup in his hands, warming them. "Likely so, yes."

He looked down at his cup, and something flitted across his vision. He tensed, and it happened again. Not movement. There was no real sense of something being there. More like a flicker, or an old film skipping a frame.

He looked up at Sato to find her looking at him, eyes wide, and he knew that whatever it was, he wasn't the only one experiencing it.

* * *

Reed stepped onto the bridge to find T'Pol sitting in the captain's chair. It was well into the night, and normally the gamma shift officer would be on deck. But it wasn't unusual for crew members to switch shifts, as T'Pol must have done. Reed was glad to find her in charge this night. He and she tended to approach problems from a similar perspective, and despite the fanciful nature of what he may have seen, he had no doubt that T'Pol would approach the issue rationally. At the moment, he felt he could do with a bit of logic.

T'Pol's fingers tapped away at the chair's console, and she looked concerned. Her brows were raised almost to her hairline, and for this Vulcan, that was a sure sign of anxiety.

The dark-haired ensign staffing the communications console, said, "Commander, reports are coming in from all over the ship. Some sort of..." She hesitated.

"Yes, Ensign?" T'Pol prompted, looking up from her work. She gave Reed an acknowledging nod when she saw him.

"It's not very clear." The ensign turned toward T'Pol. "They describe it as a flickering, and as a darkness."

"Have there been any damage reports?"

"None, Commander."

"Keep me apprised," T'Pol said. She looked again at Reed. "Lieutenant?"

"I have my staff investigating the occurrences on the ship," Reed said as he stepped forward. "Ensign Sato and I experienced the same thing on the observation deck."

T'Pol nodded and, gaze going back to her console, added, "There appears to be something wrong with this area of space."

That sounded ominous. "What do you mean?" he asked.

She didn't answer at first, her gaze locked on the information before her. Finally, she looked up. "I am not certain. The readings are...incomplete. I am in the process of analyzing them now."

Reed crossed his arms and asked curiously, "Is this something new?"

"In what way?"

"Did we get similar readings when we first entered this area?"

"One moment," she said, looking through the data. "Yes, although we did not notice them at first. They are intermittent and brief." She scrolled through the information on the screen before her. "There is a slight escalation in frequency of occurrence after the time when the alien ship attacked us."

Perhaps all of this was connected, thought Reed. The aliens being in this area of space, the reports from the ships, the occurrences on _Enterprise_ , and T'Pol's anomalous readings. He voiced his suspicion. "Do you think the aliens have something to do with these occurrences?"

T'Pol looked up. She gazed at him for a moment and then, with a barely perceptible nod, said, "I will contact the captain."

* * *

There was motion, and it was dark, and someone was there. Reed tried to shout an intruder warning, fighting against the form above him, only to end up on all fours on the floor of his quarters, shocked awake by the force of his fall.

All right, he thought, looking about himself frantically. Dreaming. He'd been dreaming. Heart pounding madly, he sank to a seat, his back against the bed. His hand went to his forehead--it hurt--and came away red. He must have hit his head against the night stand.

Alarms went off around him, and a voice came over the comm: "Command staff to the bridge."

The ship bearing Sato's pineapple aliens, the little green men, must have returned again, Reed realized. He closed his eyes with a groan. He must have hit his head harder than he'd thought. Pushing himself up, he pulled a sweater on over his T-shirt and a pair of trousers over his skivvies, and slid his feet into his boots. Then he was out the door of his cabin.

He was no farther than three steps into the corridor when he nearly banged into T'Pol. "Sorry," he murmured as he passed her.

"Lieutenant," T'Pol said sharply.

He turned. Unlike him, whose attire--and probably the state of his hair--clearly showed that he'd been sleeping when the alarm had gone off, T'Pol looked as if she'd either never been to bed, or she'd slept in her uniform, without wrinkling it or even mussing her hair. So sometime after he'd seen her on the bridge, and after they'd met with the captain, even though her shift ended soon after that, she...

He frowned, as he was fairly sure that this train of thought was not entirely pertinent to their immediate situation.

T'Pol stared at him frankly. "You are bleeding."

His hand went to his head. He felt the wetness there. "Yes. I banged my head in my quarters."

T'Pol's gaze became piercing, and she stared directly into his eyes. "You need to go to sickbay."

"The aliens," he replied, waving a vague hand in the direction he'd been heading.

She rocked back on her heels. "You are on your way to sickbay," she parried firmly.

Knowing an order when he heard one, he simply nodded, regretting the sharpness of the movement as soon as he'd done it. Wincing, he turned in the opposite direction and headed for sickbay.

As Phlox examined him, flashing a light in his eyes, poking fingers to his head, he tried to explain what had happened in his quarters. At first, he'd been quite sure that it had something to do with the aliens, but now, under the harsh lights of sickbay, he was less certain. He may simply have been dreaming.

Then Tucker showed up at the door with a cut on his lip and a bruise forming on his right cheek, and Reed knew that it had been no dream.

* * *

Some hours later, Reed had been released from sickbay--mild concussion, according to Phlox--and, after a quick change of clothing in his quarters, was at his station on the bridge. The aliens had returned earlier--Reed had been correct about that--and as in his case, their return had coincided with several of the crew having some rather disturbing dreams. A few of them, like his, had been violent enough to end in injury.

"It may be a combination of factors," T'Pol said, addressing Archer where he stood in the center of the bridge. Most of the bridge repairs had been completed, including the panel that had fallen over T'Pol's station, so she was able to sit there again. "From my analysis of the reports from other ships, it seems that the longer they spend in this area, the more incidents occur, and the more severe they become."

She nodded toward Sato, who picked up the explanation. "At first, most reports read like ghost stories. People seeing things, flickers of things that aren't there. Then, as they spend more time here, people start having strange dreams."

Reed realized that his fingers had moved to where he'd cut his head, and he pulled his hand away.

"What happens next?" asked Mayweather from the helm.

"I don't know," Sato said with a shrug. "No one stays here long enough to find out."

"I'd imagine there's no reason for them to hang around," Archer said. "We're probably one of the few ships to come here and actually stay for any measurable length of time. Everyone else just passes through on their way to someplace else."

Reed looked up from his data. He'd been reading through what had happened, trying to get caught up. "Sir, if I may?" At the captain's answering nod, Reed went on. "The aliens made sure we can't leave, at least until our engines are fixed. What's so important here to them that they did that? What is it that they want from us?"

Sato winced, and at Archer's indication, she pushed a button at her station.

A familiar voice, but with the inflection and tone totally wrong, rang out over the speakers. "You will leave."

Reed sat back in his chair. Short, simple, and to the point. The aliens spoke with Sato's voice this time, cut up and repurposed. No wonder she looked unsettled.

Archer asked the obvious question. "If they want us to leave, why take out our engines, making it impossible for us to do so?"

Of course, no one had an answer.

"What if we do leave?" Sato asked. She turned to face Archer. "I figure Commander Tucker and I could rig up some warning beacons, warn people off this area."

"I'm afraid that may not work," Archer said. He sat down in his chair and called up some data on the armrest. "I contacted Starfleet. Similar events are being reported elsewhere in the populated areas closest to this region."

"But the closest one is thirty light-years away," Mayweather said, clearly surprised.

"It's expanding beyond the local area," T'Pol put in.

Archer nodded. "And who knows how far it will go?"

"So why here, and why now?" Sato asked.

"Sir," Reed said. When Archer looked to him, he went on. "T'Pol and I had an idea." He looked over at the Vulcan. "Whatever is going on, it seems to get worse whenever the pine..." He caught himself with a quick glance at Sato. That's all he needed right now--to start calling the aliens by another absurd name, as if "little green men" weren't bad enough. He rephrased. "...when the aliens come here. Could the instabilities be directly related to the aliens' visits? What if they are causing these incidents?"

"On purpose?" Archer asked.

"We have no evidence of that," T'Pol interjected.

Reed nodded. "It could well be a side effect of their presence."

Archer leaned forward in his chair, his interest apparent from his expression. "They may not even realize that they are the cause."

Reed added, "Or that anything at all is happening."

"And yet," Mayweather said, seeming thoughtful. He twisted his chair so he could face Archer. "The reports of these occurrences started only about three months ago, and we know these guys were around six years ago, when we ran into them for the first time."

"But they weren't here," Archer said, emphasizing that last word. "Maybe it's something about them being in this particular area."

Sato looked at Archer. "Sir, you could be right. I mean, we met them a hundred light-years away from here. Maybe they'd never actually been to this area of space before." She sat up straighter. "We have no reports of anyone, other than us and maybe the Romulans, encountering these aliens, so maybe they weren't around to encounter."

"Until now," Archer said, frowning.

"Yes, sir," Sato replied. "Until we--Boomers included--started coming to this place."

"Let's assume that if these aliens are here, they are here in this particular place, and perhaps at this particular time, for a reason," Archer said.

Reed could almost see Archer's mind working. And yes, it was likely that the aliens' visits here were purposeful, but there were more immediate issues at hand.

Archer stood and began pacing the bridge. After a moment, he said, "If these incidents are related to the aliens being here in this space, and if the effects are expanding, we need to get the aliens out of here, and they need to stop whatever they are doing that's causing these problems." He pressed a button on his armrest and triggered the comm. "Trip, how are the engines coming?"

"Good, Captain," Tucker said. Reed could tell from his voice alone that the man was exhausted, but confidence rang in his voice. "Maybe another twelve hours, we'll be ready to test."

"Thanks," Archer said, clicking off. "So we can't leave until then, unless we care to stroll out of here on impulse."

He glanced at Mayweather, who responded with, "Probably take three days at that speed, sir."

"We need to explain to these aliens that we need more time," Archer said. "And more than that, if what T'Pol and Malcolm are saying is true, we also need to find a way to get them to leave, or else all this is likely to continue to get worse, maybe even spread further." He turned to Sato. "Hoshi, put together a message. Tell them that we are damaged but that we'll leave as soon as we can. Tell them that we're not sure why, but we suspect something about their presence here is affecting this space, that it could be hurting people." He said the last with a glance Reed's forehead, where a bandage covered his injury. "Tell them they need to leave."

"Yes, sir," Sato said, already beginning her work.

"Next time they show up, don't wait for my order," Archer said firmly. "Transmit that message."

* * *

Reed sat at the desk in the armory, once again poring over all the data they had on these aliens. He'd been hoping that by approaching it with fresh eyes after a good night's sleep, he'd find something new. But he hadn't. First of all, his sleep had again been disturbed by dreams--nothing violent this time, but enough to leave him ill rested. And the data had given him nothing new to work with. Not precisely. Just hunches and assumptions, nothing that would stand up to logic's harsh scrutiny. But looking at the same information again was making him think that maybe...but that didn't make any sense. Why in the world would...?

"Malcolm?"

He looked up in surprise. Directly in front of him and leaning against his desk was an exhausted-looking Tucker.

"I'm not exactly a model of stealth, here," Tucker said, an amused smile lighting his pale face. "You've got to be pretty damn involved with whatever you're doing. You didn't hear me come in."

Reed, about to answer, smothered a yawn instead.

Tucker pursed his lips. "Or pretty damn tired. You been sleeping?"

"Yes," Reed said simply, not going into detail. He suspected that Tucker already knew, or assumed. He rubbed a hand across his eyes and glanced at the clock. More than three hours had passed since he'd sat down. "Sorry," he said. "How long were you standing there?"

"A few minutes," Tucker said, sinking into the chair beside the desk. "I wanted to see how long it would take before you noticed me."

Tucker was right. He must have been so wrapped up in what he was doing that he'd become oblivious to the world around him.

"Were you able to repair the engines?" Reed asked.

Tucker nodded. "Done and done. I just wanted to get caught up on stuff before I hit the sack." He gave a slight smile. "Hopefully, I'll end up getting more rest than you did. Is everyone else...?"

Reed shook his head. "No, only some of us."

"Lucky us," Tucker said sarcastically.

Phlox hadn't been able to figure out why some crew members seemed to be more affected than others, and honestly, Reed didn't particularly care. He wanted these aliens out of here. That done, all this would end.

"What are you doing?" Tucker asked, peering at the screen of the monitor.

"Going through the data again," Reed replied. He leaned back in his chair.

"Find anything?"

Reed hesitated. It wasn't exactly as if he had.

Tucker leaned forward, arms on the desk. "Out with it."

"It's a hunch more than anything," Reed finally admitted, keeping his voice quiet although no one was near enough to hear.

Tucker gave him an expectant look.

"I wonder..." Reed began. He took a deep breath. "There may be something about the aliens' new shielding that is causing these incidents."

Reed could tell that comment had piqued Tucker's interest. From a strictly technical standpoint, Reed knew that the engineer couldn't help but be curious.

"What do you mean?" Tucker asked.

Reed answered, "From what little we know, nothing else about their ship has changed: just the power of their weapons and their defensive equipment. But their weapons appear to be much the same as they had been. It's their defensive capabilities--part of it seems to be some sort of electromagnetic shield."

"Were you able to get any scans--?"

Reed stopped Tucker with a shake of his head. "I have no real data to back any of this up. But it's the only thing I can think of that fits what we've observed."

"So I'm assuming they're probably not doing this on purpose," Tucker said with a frown.

"Not likely, no," Reed said. "They may not even realize it."

Tucker pierced him with a look. "Or maybe they don't care."

Reed shrugged. Tucker had a point.

* * *

Reed spent his next shift on the bridge, and it was thankfully uneventful. Warp drive was back up, but they were waiting, hoping the aliens would come back so they'd have an opportunity to transmit their message. As the end of his shift approached, Reed wondered how much longer they'd have to wait.

Then something flickered in front of him. He didn't even get the chance to call out before the room spun around him, and he found himself on the deck beside his console, blinking into flashing red lights, T'Pol's face hovering over him.

"Are you all right, Lieutenant?" she asked.

Reed's answer was interrupted by a loud voice from the ship's comm: "You must leave."

Reed levered himself on an elbow, trying to see what was going on. He seemed to have been the only one on the bridge so severely affected. At least, he was the only one who was on the floor, although he felt all right.

T'Pol put out her hand to keep him from rising. "You should remain where you are. We have summoned medical help."

He could see Sato working her console, and knew that she was likely trying to transmit their message to the alien ship.

"I'm fine," he said to T'Pol. At the doubt in her eyes, he tried for a bit of a smile. "Really. They can check me when they get here."

The demand issued again from the speakers. "You must leave," came Sato's voice, pitch and cadence all wrong.

Reed made to stand, and perhaps sensing the inevitable, T'Pol helped him up with a hand at his elbow. He gave her a grateful nod as he slid into his seat. His eyes moved to the main viewscreen, where the green lights of the alien ship glowed strongly.

Archer, who had been seated in his command chair, stood, and with a nod to Sato to indicate that he wanted an open channel, he began speaking. "This is Captain Jonathan Archer, of the starship _Enterprise_." When he got no response, he went on. "Can we please meet? I'd like to discuss--"

"You must leave." Sato's voice came again, interrupting Archer.

Archer stepped forward, closer to the screen. "There is something about your ship being here that is causing harmful effects," he said, cutting right to the main issue.

"No."

The eyes of everyone on the bridge snapped to Reed at that single word.

"You must leave."

In a sudden panic, Reed realized it was he who was speaking. Not a cobbled-together mishmash of words stolen from a recording and broadcast over the com system, but he himself.

Archer's eyes widened slightly. "What are you doing with my crew member?" he asked evenly.

"You must leave," Reed heard himself repeat. He felt himself stand. He could see Sato, just beyond where Archer was standing, whispering into her console. He assumed--he prayed--that she'd just called security.

From nearby, he heard T'Pol say sotto voce, "Reports are coming in. Others have been affected as well." She paused, listening to the communications. "Six people so far, including Mr. Reed."

Eyes on Reed, Archer addressed a question to her. "What are they doing?"

"They are saying the same things as Mister Reed. They all appear to be speaking as one."

"Anyone harmed?" Archer asked.

"No. There was no struggle," T'Pol answered.

Reed tried desperately to move, but he couldn't. He felt his pulse rise and sweat break out on his forehead, but he was unable to do so much as lift his own finger.

"Do not struggle," Reed's voice said. He sounded remarkably calm, although a bit wooden, as if he were reading from a script. "There could be harm if there is struggle." He felt his head tilt to the side. "There could be harm."

Archer nodded to T'Pol, who spoke into the comm beside her, relaying that message to the others who'd been affected. Reed himself tried to relax, but that was near impossible. Instead, he simply stopped trying to move, at least for the moment. At least until he could figure out a way to make this stop.

The doors to the bridge opened, and Reed saw two members of his security team there, weapons drawn. Archer didn't even look at them. He simply raised one hand, halting them just inside the door.

"You must leave," Archer said to Reed, repeating the exact words that the aliens had used. "Something about you being here is--"

"No," Reed said, more forcefully than before. He took an unsteady step forward, and he saw the security staff raise their weapons. "Something about you being here is..." He paused. "You being here is," he said firmly. "There is harm."

Archer exchanged a glance with T'Pol before continuing. "You're saying that it's us being here that is causing these incidents?"

"I am saying," Reed answered.

Archer's eyes showed his surprise, although his face remained composed. "If we leave, all this will stop?" he asked.

"No," Reed said. "If you leave." He raised his hand and pointed a finger at the viewscreen. "And you. And you. And you," he said, moving the finger from place to place on the screen, implying multiples.

Reed realized what the alien was trying to say. It was all the ships that had been here. They were causing the problems. He felt his gut clench. He'd been wrong all along. He'd thought it had been the aliens, when in reality, it had been them--and the Boomers and the cargo haulers--from the start.

Archer must have realized this as well, because he said, "We can place this area of space off limits."

"Off limits," Reed echoed. He could almost feel the aliens considering the words.

"And the incidents will stop?" Archer asked.

Reed felt himself nod sharply. "If you leave," he said again. "The incidents will stop. We will leave."

"Thank you," Archer said. "Perhaps, in the future, we--"

"No," Reed cut across him again.

And with that last word, Reed saw everything go black, and he felt himself fall.

* * *

Reed woke in sickbay. Tucker was on the bed nearest to his, and four other crewmen were occupying the other biobeds. They all appeared to either be unconscious or asleep.

"Well, that sucked," Tucker said softly. He opened his eyes slowly.

"Indeed it did," Reed answered. Like Tucker, he kept his voice low so as not to disturb the others.

Phlox came by and checked first his, then Tucker's, status. He injected something into their IV lines, then moved away with a smile and a soft, "Welcome back."

"Hold on a second, Doc," Tucker said, pushing himself up on an elbow. As Phlox turned back, Tucker asked, still keeping his voice low, "What the hell happened?"

Phlox's face crumpled in concern, and he immediately returned to Tucker's bedside. "Do you not remember, Commander?" The doctor began fussing around his patient, pulling out a hand scanner as he simultaneously flashed a light into Tucker's eyes while also checking the overhead monitors.

Tucker peered around Phlox and gave Reed a resigned look. "I remember plenty. I just..." He waited until Phlox had backed off a bit. "The aliens took us over, right?"

It was the same assumption that Reed had made, waking up and seeing Tucker and the other crewmen here. He'd known that he'd been used, and he'd known that others around the ship had been as well. This was the same group of people who'd had the worst of the dreams. He'd figured that they'd been the lucky ones who'd served as mouthpieces for the aliens.

Phlox nodded. "That is true, Commander. The six of you."

Tucker went on. "We were all..." He let the words trail away.

Phlox stared at him, waiting calmly.

"I feel like we kind of got the short end of the stick, here," Tucker said with finality, nodding toward the others on the biobeds. "I wondered--why us?"

"Ah," Phlox said. He pocketed the scanner. "Interesting question." He paused a moment, head cocked in thought. "There is no reason that I have been able to discern." He held up a hand to hold back Tucker's next comment. "Our tests show nothing out of the ordinary. You're all in perfect health, beyond a headache and some residual tiredness." He waved a hand. "I'm running additional tests to be sure."

But Reed got the impression that the doctor didn't expect to find anything. "So there's nothing connecting us?" he asked.

"Other than the fact that you all suffer from allergies." Phlox held up a finger to stop Reed's reply. "As does over 60 percent of the crew." Phlox counted off his next points. "All of you are, at least in part, of Irish decent. Each of you has spent some time in tropical or semitropical climates before entering Starfleet. Five of the six of you have broken one or more fingers. Two of the six have, interestingly enough, passed their gold-level tests in a sport called 'ice dancing.'"

Reed cast a glance to Tucker, who was nodding in time to Phlox's recitation.

"But for each of these things that link you, there are others in the crew who were not affected who also share these characteristics." Phlox's smile changed, softening a bit. "Be assured that this is something that I have considered, but there really does seem to be no clear reason why the six of you were so chosen. None that I have been able to determine, that is."

"But--" Tucker managed, before Phlox shook his head, silencing him.

"There are other incidental commonalities, but I do not believe these things are related to what occurred."

"Luck of the draw?" Tucker asked with resignation.

"I suppose so, Commander." And with that, Phlox broke into one of his trademark grins before moving off.

Reed and Tucker exchanged a look, and Reed could tell that his friend didn't agree with the doctor. And it made sense for Tucker to feel that way. There had to be some reason why they were chosen. Didn't there? He sighed. Perhaps not. Who was he to read anything into the motivations of another species?

Reed stretched cautiously. Other than some soreness in his shoulders and one blistering headache, he felt fine. In fact, whatever Phlox had given him was already taking the edge off the headache. He tried to relax into the pillow. Perhaps if he slept, he could help the medication along and get out of here sooner.

He shut his eyes, only to open them again at Tucker's next words.

"So if they wanted us to leave so badly, why did they take out our engines?"

Reed sighed. Tucker had a good point--one Archer had raised before--but he'd given it some thought while the aliens had been using him as their mouthpiece. Which, to think about it, was still as creepy as hell. "I think they wanted to keep us here."

"What?" Trip asked sharply. A crew member on a nearby bed stirred, and Tucker repeated, more softly this time, "What?"

Reed rolled onto his side, careful not to disturb his IV. "Not forever, but I think they wanted to keep us here long enough to get us to understand what was going on here. After all, they didn't fire on us after that first attack. I think they wanted us to understand, to be able to explain what was happening to others who might come here."

"So you believe them?" Tucker asked.

Reed looked at him in surprise. "I have no reason not to."

Tucker seemed to accept that. "So what's so different about this area of space? And why did the aliens even care about what was happening here?"

"I have no idea," Reed said, letting his eyes fall shut again, and he found that he didn't care. The painkiller Phlox had given him seemed to be making him drowsy. That, or recent events had affected his body more than he'd realized. "We may never know."

"I don't like not knowing," Tucker said.

Reed shrugged.

"Still, I would have at least liked to have known their name," Tucker said. "Little green men."

Or pineapple aliens. "I don't suppose it matters," Reed said. He figured if the aliens had wanted to tell them, they would have. They obviously hadn't felt it was necessary.

"We can use all the allies we can get," Tucker added, not satisfied with Reed's response. "I guess I'm hoping that we've made another friend out here."

"I'd be surprised," Reed answered.

"Why?"

"We found a way towards a peaceful end, yes," Reed said. "But that does not mean that we've found an ally, or that we even want these people as our allies. After all, they started the conversation by shooting at us, and they ended it by taking over our bodies. Not my idea of friends."

"True," Tucker admitted.

Reed opened his eyes again and met Tucker's gaze. "I'm not sure we should think it possible to understand a people," he said, stressing the last word, "who are so different from ourselves. And when they themselves seem uninterested..." He sighed. "I'm not sure it's worth it even to try."

"I think it's a human thing," Tucker said pointedly.

Reed let his eyes fall shut, his point made. "But they aren't human."


End file.
